


Baby Blue Scrubs

by marshmallowdeanie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, M/M, Nurse!Castiel, dean is afraid of needles!!!, tw: needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:11:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4961863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallowdeanie/pseuds/marshmallowdeanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam makes Dean go for a flu shot. Castiel is a nurse working at the clinic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Blue Scrubs

**Author's Note:**

> This is the dumbest title ever, enjoy nonsense!!

Dean is pouting.

He’s not the type, typically, but right now he can’t help it; he’s about to get stabbed with a needle and it’s all because his younger brother is a relentless health-freak.

It’s true that Sam was only looking out for Dean by nagging him for weeks on end about getting a flu vaccination, until Dean had finally given in and they’d scheduled his appointment, but Dean is still bitter about it. It’s just so damn inconvenient. When he’d told that to Sam, though, he’d only brought up how inconvenient being laid up in bed for a week straight last fall had been when Dean had infected _him_ with the goddamn flu. So, riddled with guilt and irritated to death, Dean grudgingly agreed to get the stupid flu shot.

The only free slot of time he’d had for the weekday-only clinic was on a Friday during his lunch break, which he’d really rather be spending scarfing down a meal before having to drag his ass back to his dreary office for another four hours. But, thanks to Sam, he’s _here_ \- waiting in a line that probably rivals both actual Hell and the DMV in a hot, cramped room that smells like rubbing alcohol.

Dean’s already getting the first deep pulls of a tension headache in his forehead. He pinches the bridge of his nose and releases a long-suffering sigh, annoyed with the paperwork - seriously, he does enough of _that_ at work- that he has to fill out regarding his non-existent allergies which he’d been handed upon entering the clinic. After he passess the clipboard off to one of the volunteer staff members, he checks his watch and glances around the room, eyes tracing the line which snakes around the room creating two loops of people. He rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone to check his email.

A few minutes pass and Dean doesn’t have any new emails to respond to, but the line is still mostly stationary. He doesn’t understand why it takes so long to poke somebody and send them on their way.

His stomach grumbles with interest as his eye catches two little kids who’re sitting across the room stuffing their faces with what looks like McDonalds. Dean’s so hungry that he thinks he could probably chew his own arm off if someone gave him some ketchup to dip it in. As the minutes tick by and the line hardly moves, Dean starts to think about the needle - long and sharp, sinking past his skin and into his muscle. He imagines the burn of the liquid cocktail, which supposedly vaccinates against a particular strain of influenza, spreading out deep in his deltoid. It racks up a bit of nerves for him and he feels his chest tighten. He shivers slightly and shuffles his feet, restless. Dean knows he’s being ridiculous - he’s gotten shots before and he doesn’t remember them being so bad. Mostly, he just remembers his anxiety beforehand, like right now. Granted, it’s been a while...he hasn’t had a shot since probably freshman year of college, which was some time ago (though Dean would rather not disclose just _how_ long ago.)

He tries not to focus on what the needle will feel like, but Dean is bored waiting in the line. His phone is uninteresting and the room is pretty quiet. He doesn’t know anybody here and he couldn’t bring Sam because he’d already scheduled a different day. His mind goes back to the needle again and he looks over people’s shoulders to try and get a look at someone receiving their shot. A middle-aged woman with medium brown hair and a serious face has a thin, gangly guy’s sleeve rolled all the way up to his shoulder and she’s rubbing something - it must be an alcohol wipe - in a few circles on the man’s upper arm, almost on his shoulder. Then, she picks up a syringe from the table beside her and uncaps it, flicking the protective lid in the trash. The needle looks bigger than Dean had imagined - but maybe he still had images of pediatric needles in his head from his childhood. Dean’s stomach does a little flip when the nurse sticks the man with the needle in one swift motion. The needle is held in the dude’s arm for a few seconds while she injects the vaccine in, and then she abruptly yanks the needle back out and tosses it in the trash. Dean looks away then and swallows the lump that’s formed in his throat while he wasn’t paying attention. He takes in a deep breath and slowly breathes it back out through his nose.

_Ridiculous, man, you’re being a complete baby. Little kids get shots all the time and do fine._

Just as he has that thought, though, he hears a child start to cry loudly from somewhere in the clinic. The line begins to move a little and Dean gets closer to the front. He considers just leaving. He won’t be penalized for it and Sam would never know - if he ended up getting the flu, it wouldn’t matter, because the vaccine isn’t always effective, anyway, so he could just lie and tell Sam he’d gotten the shot today. But the line moves up and Dean moves along with it, still debating on bolting, even if he’d look like an idiot in front of all of these people.

When Dean looks up towards the front again, wringing his hands and using his paperwork to fan himself, he freezes and his stomach drops for a completely different reason. Switching spots with the older female nurse from before, who looked to be done with her shift, was the most gorgeous man Dean had ever laid eyes on - wearing baby blue scrubs and smiling, seemingly in a completely different world than Dean was. At closer range, Dean watches this beautiful man interact with the female nurse - they laugh about something and he pecks her cheek in goodbye. His lips are very full and very pink, Dean remarks with a warm sensation in the pit of his stomach.

He’s a young man - a nurse - with dark brown hair that sweeps out and across his forehead just slightly, a few inches longer than Dean’s, looking soft and touchable. He’s fairly tan, but he has a pinkness to his cheeks and ears that Dean finds cute. What really strikes Dean the most, though, are the man’s big, _bright_ blue eyes. Dean thinks he could fall into them.

It seems like Dean spends an hour taking this all in, but it’s really only seconds. The line Dean’s standing in moves again, leaving only about five people ahead of him. Dean is transfixed on the male nurse now, watching his long, smooth fingers deftly handle the syringes and guide the needles into the arms of his patients. He giggles when one of the vaccine recipients says something that’s apparently humorous, and Dean is instantly jealous, though the smile pulling up on the nurse’s face is totally worth it.

Dean’s eyes flicker easily up and down the man’s body now that he’s close enough to see him unobstructed. He looks pretty damn good in scrubs, Dean notes, and he bets any money that this guy probably works out. His arms aren’t bulky or built, just toned lightly, so Dean guesses he’s a runner or something.

Dean has to take a moment after he _thinks_ about this guy in _shorts_....getting all _sweaty_ …breathing _hard_. It's enough to make his dick twitch with interest, which is when he promptly draws the line through his fantasy. With further inspection (granted when the nurse bends over to pick up a box of bandages he’s dropped) Dean confirms that this man _must_ run because his ass is a generous curve attached to a considerably healthy, thick pair of thighs. Dean can’t help but lick his lips and loosen his necktie a little bit.

There’s no fucking way that he’s bailing now. Not with hot-stuff up there administering shots. And Dean has already forgotten all about his nervousness.

That is, until it’s his turn and _oh, God, there he is, so fucking pretty, and he’s about to stick me with a needle and I’m so fucking terrified I could barf._

“Hi. How are you?” Dean hears the nurse’s voice for the first time and it’s like a cool wave washing over him on a desert beach.

“Good. Dean,”

“Oh - uh, what?” the nurse says, tilting his head a bit as a brow sinks in confusion.

“My name, uh, Dean. That’s my name,” Dean’s face grows hot, feeling stupid for not saying the right words.

But the nurse just smiles at him, unperturbed, and replies quickly, “Oh, I’m Castiel. So, do you want me to use a specific arm?”

Dean shakes his head and shrugs, trying to be accommodating, so he starts to take off his suit jacket. _Castiel, Castiel, Castiel_ , Dean repeats in his head, the name like static electricity in his mind.

Dean’s wearing a long sleeve dress shirt and there’s no way he can roll that up to make his upper arm will be accessible, so he realizes he’s going to have to take the entire shirt off. Luckily, he has a tank top on underneath, but his heart starts up to hammering again. Dean makes awkward eye contact with Castiel as he starts to fumble with his tie and then the buttons on his shirt to get them off. Not only does he feel like he’s holding up the line, but Castiel’s eyes are on him and he’s an _idiot_ who’s sexualizing a _not_ -striptease at a _flu-shot clinic, fuck_.

“Sorry, I came from work,” Dean blunders, and he shoots Castiel a faux-confident smile. He swears the nurse’s cheeks fill with a tiny bit more color as his gaze travels down the front of Dean’s torso, but maybe it’s all in his head. Dean finally gets the awful shirt off and clears his throat, looking up to Castiel for direction.

“Well, I guess we can use the left side,” Castiel tells Dean calmly with a crooked smile. He twists toward the table to prepare Dean’s needle and that’s when his anxiety builds right back up again.

“Have you ever had a flu shot before, Dean?” Castiel asks him, flicking the bubbles out of the syringe to get the air out.

“Uh, probably when I was a kid. But not recently, no,” he admits, and maybe his voice cracks a little on ‘ _recently_ ,’ because Castiel looks over, slightly amused and a little concerned. He squints at Dean with a small smile on his face.

“You aren’t afraid of needles, are you?”

Dean scoffs at the question, but he can’t make himself look Castiel in the eyes, no matter how beautiful they are, because he knows it’s true. His mind races for something to say, some way for him to play it off, _make a joke, Dean_ , but he can’t come up with anything.

Castiel steps into Dean’s space now and tears open a little package that has the alcohol wipe in it. He takes Dean’s arm gently, warm, soft fingers curling halfway around his tricep. The swab is cold when Castiel starts to wipe it in quick, little circles a few inches below his shoulder.

“You have nothing to worry about. Trust me,” Castiel reassures him quietly. He tosses the swab in the trash and picks up the syringe. Dean is sure that Castiel feels when all of the muscles in his body go rigid. Dean’s head spins and he blows a little air through his nose, purposefully looking in the opposite direction and clenching his jaw.

“ _Hey_...look at _me_ ,”

Dean responds to Castiel’s voice instantly, turning his head and meeting his gaze just in time to feel a tiny prick a little fuzzy sensation in his arm. Dean barely realizes what’s happened - that Castiel’s got the needle in his arm - while he looks into the man’s eyes. And when he does, Castiel is already pulling the needle out briskly and dropping it in the trash can. He feels pressure and finally looks down at his own arm to find Castiel pressing a clean little piece of gauze over the pinprick.

“That...that’s it? Wow. You’re amazing,” Dean breathes, relief flooding out of him in waves. Castiel reaches for a band-aid with one hand, passing the gauze to Dean to hold; their fingers brush as he does. His hands slides a little more than necessary on Dean’s bicep, and Dean even feels a slight squeeze when Castiel grins and says, “It might be a little tender or swollen for the rest of the day,”

“I can deal with that,” Dean grins back, daring to wink at the nurse. Castiel blinks slowly at him and a little hiccup escapes him - the cutest giggle Dean’s ever seen.

“Do you have any questions? You can pick up a possible symptoms sheet out in the lobby,” he asks, eyelashes fluttering - and _yeah_ , Dean’s so gone for this guy.

“Yeah, just one. Are you free tonight?”


End file.
